The rheumatism still oppressed him, but he turned his face resolutely toward the future. War or peace, pain or relief, he was not to be deprived of his annual trip to England. He was involved in some litigation that required his presence in London. Besides, the city by the Thames called to him, and behind this call was the appeal of old and loved associations. With all his wonted enthusiasm he wrote to his friends at Marlow telling them that he was coming over and that he would soon be in their midst. Frohman now made ready for this trip. When he announced that he was going on the _Lusitania_ his friends and associates made vigorous protest, which he derided with a smile. Thus, in the approach to death, just as in the path to great success, opposition only made him all the more decided. With regard to his sailing on the _Lusitania_, this tenacity of purpose was his doom. Whether he had a premonition or not, the fact remains that he said and did things during the days before he sailed which uncannily suggested that the end was not unexpected. For one thing, he dictated his whole program for the next season before he started. It was something that he had never done before. When Marie Doro came to his office to say good-by he pulled out a little red pocket note-book in which he jotted down many things and suddenly said: "Queer, but the little book is full. There is no room for anything else." Just as he was warned not to produce "The Hyphen," so was he now cautioned by anonymous correspondents (and even by mysterious telephone messages) not to take the _Lusitania_. But all this merely tightened his purpose. He met the danger with his usual jest. On the day before he sailed he went up to bid his old friend and colleague, Al Hayman, good-by. Hayman, like all his associates, warned him not to go on the _Lusitania_. "Do you think there is any danger?" asked Frohman. "Yes, I do," replied Hayman. "Well, I am going, anyhow," was the answer. After he had shaken hands he stopped at the door and said, smilingly: "Well, Al, if you want to write to me just address the letter care of the German Submarine U 4." Those last days ashore were filled with a strange mellowness. Ethel Barrymore came down from Boston to see him. They had an intimate talk about the old days. When she left him she saw tears in his eyes. That night, just as she was about to go on in "The Shadow" in Boston, she received this telegram from him: _Nice talk, Ethel. Good-by. C. F._ The _Lusitania_ sailed at ten o'clock on Saturday morning, May 1, 1915. Even at the dock Frohman could not resist his little joke. When Paul Potter, who saw him off, said to him: "Aren't you afraid of the U boats, C. F.?" "No, I am only afraid of the I O U's," was the reply. [Illustration: COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY DANIEL FROHMAN _CHARLES FROHMAN ON BOARD SHIP_]